


Trigger Discipline

by masserect



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Community: shirakawablvd, Gunplay, Masturbation, evokers don't work that way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:37:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masserect/pseuds/masserect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukari doesn't like evokers much, but when it's the only thing at hand and her fingers won't suffice, what's a girl to do?</p><p>(Don't worry, it's not loaded.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trigger Discipline

_Mitsuru Kirijo has the worst timing in the world._

Yukari can't remember when was the last time she actually looked forward to the Dark Hour, looked forward to visiting _Tartarus_. But the usual twenty-four hours have been frustrating of late.

She had forgotten to set her clock before going to bed last night, and missed breakfast as a result. Then there had been a test she's pretty sure she flunked, followed by several miserable screw-ups during archery practice. Then she knocked over her bag in the changing room and now the screen on her cell has a crack in it. And while she couldn't _prove_ anything, she couldn't bring herself to believe that the hand smacking her ass on the train home had been an accident.

She had sprinted the last bit to the dorm, eager to get her things ready for tonight. Only to find that the planned trip wouldn't happen after all, because wouldn't you know it, Mitsuru had caught the sniffles and had to stay in bed.

It's not fair to blame Mitsuru, she knows, but it's so damn hard not to. Why _can't_ they go to Tartarus without her? There's barely a year between them, they've all done this what feels like a hundred times - they can handle it.

At some level, she understands that Tartarus is the last place she should be in this condition. Too frustrated, too liable to make a mistake. Shadows aren't much for second chances. But that still leaves her without an outlet.

She grunts and drops backwards onto the bed. Sits up long enough to shrug out of her cardigan, then lets herself fall back down on the covers. There's no dancing around the subject, no dressing it up in pretty words. She needs to get herself off so she can relax, so she can go to sleep and forget this day ever happened.

Usually, she likes to take it slow. Gentle touches, stroking all her sensitive spots, touching her face, her neck and shoulders, playing with her breasts, fingers slowly dancing down her stomach before reaching their destination. But not now, not tonight. Tonight, it's just a hand between her legs, groping herself through her panties.

She can already tell that it's not enough. Archery practice has left her fingers stronger and rougher than one might expect, but they are still too soft and too smooth.

Usually, she likes soft. But now, she wants something more, something _hard_ , and groans in frustration as she feels the sensation fizzling out even though she pinches her clit hard through the cotton.

She has fantasized about getting a vibrator, but she couldn't very well go out and buy it in Port Island, and she couldn't have it delivered to the dorm either, so that idea never went anywhere. Even if it had, she would have got something small and cute, nothing like what she wants right now. Hard. Thick.

She sits up again, groaning in frustration. Does she have anything? A hairbrush? It wouldn't be the first time, but now they all seem so light, so... _thin_.

Scowling, she turns her head back and forth, scanning the room for anything else that might better suit her mood.

Her gaze falls on the evoker in its holster, hanging on the inside of an open closet door. When she left it there last night in preparation for the planned excursion, she had been considerably less enthusiastic.

It takes her a moment to realize what she's thinking, and she shakes her head. _No, that would be..._

It would be sick. It's a weapon. Even if it's not for shooting anyone. She _hates_ the stupid thing.

But it's hard, heavy and solid. She can feel it in her hands, just thinking about it.

Feel it in her-

She shakes her head again, harder, and returns her right hand to the spot between her thighs, rubbing back and forth just once. Her clit is swollen and sensitive. The thin white cotton feels damp under her fingers. She groans as she pulls her hand away, balls it into a fist and pounds it on the bed. Why does it turn her on so much?

Why does she even care?

It's just a thing.

She's going to regret this the next time she goes to Tartarus. Going to remember this night and feel horribly embarrassed. And she realizes, as that thought crosses her mind, that she already made up her mind.

She pushes off from the bed and takes the few steps separating her from the closet. The texture of the holster is familiar under her fingers, and the weight of it makes her heart pound a little faster as she snaps the button open and draws the evoker.

Big. Heavy. Gleaming in the light.

"You better treat me right," she mutters, as if the dumb chunk of metal could understand her. Glares at it and lets her hand drop, the evoker dangling from one finger as she heads back to the bed. She doesn't look at it as she lies back down, or when she raises it - held in reverse, with the barrel on the underside of her hand - and begins to stroke her inner thigh with the tip.

The metal is cool, but not cold. A muscle jumps at the sensation, and she presses the muzzle hard into her flesh, leaving a rectangular imprint on the soft, smooth skin. Chews her lower lip and arches her back, feeling something rather like electricity spreading through her body from the mark.

Almost as though it were moving on its own, the evoker slides slowly up her leg, until it's close enough to touch the lining of her panties, sliding against skin and cloth both.

She draws a deep breath, and pushes it the rest of the way, until it's resting on top of her panties, angled a bit to the side so the edge digs in between her outer labia through the cloth.

Cool, hard and heavy. She doesn't have to press it down; gravity alone is enough to force it down against her, and she can feel herself growing wetter at the sensation.

Slowly, she starts to move. Sliding the evoker back and forth, letting it press down on her clit and between her inner lips. It tingles in a way her fingers completely failed to produce, and she tightens her grip on the - the handle? She doesn't know the proper term, and she doesn't care. Her knuckles whiten around the unyielding metal and her breath grows quick and shallow, bright spots already beginning to dance before her eyes, and she squeezes them shut, still with her lower lip caught between her teeth. Her left hand fists in the covers, her toes curl in her socks.

It happens so quickly, she barely has time to realize what's happening before she's already coming, panting and arching, tossing her hair and straining not to make a sound. Her hips buck against the evoker, grinding her clit hard against the smooth metal, and her head fills with bright, fizzing light.

Swift, overwhelming, and gone as suddenly as it hit, and nowhere near enough to satisfy her.

She opens her eyes, blinks away the last dancing spots. Her shirt clings to her skin, and her fingers ache as they still clutch the covers and the evoker. Groaning with effort, she raises herself on her left elbow and looks down for the first time at what she's doing, at the evoker between her thighs.

Her mouth feels dry, but her panties are wet. Not just moist anymore, but dark with her slick, clinging to her skin, outlining her sex. She sees traces of moisture even on the barrel of the evoker, long streaks that glint a little differently than just dry metal. Her nipples are achingly hard, making two tiny bumps in her shirt even through she's wearing a bra. Without thinking, she raises the evoker and flicks the muzzle over the left bump, and jumps at the sensation, breath hissing between her teeth.

She needs more.

Pulling her legs up, she raises her hips and slips the panties down her legs; they end up hanging around her left ankle, and she doesn't care enough to kick them off. She spreads herself open with her fingers, looking down at the flushed, wet skin below.

Her labia are slick and swollen with arousal. Her clit is stiff and plainly visible under its hood, yearning to be touched.

Slowly, slowly she brings the evoker down again to stroke it, metal on bare flesh.

If she had thought it felt electric at first, it's nothing compared to this sensation. At the first touch, her hands jerk back and her thighs clamp shut. A high-pitched noise escapes her lips as her eyes grow wide and her entire body shakes for a moment.

Any other time, she would have been satisfied with once. Any other time, this sensation would have been far too much. But she's not done, nowhere near being done.

Gritting her teeth, she forces her legs apart once more, pulls the hood back and strokes her bare clit with the barrel of the evoker.

It overloads her senses. Her right leg kicks out; the left pulls up against her. She feels her body moving but can't do anything to stop it - not as long as that touch lasts, that friction between flesh and metal.

But it's not enough.

Without thinking, she slides the gun down, the muzzle digging in between her engorged inner lips, and angles it just right -

Eyes tightly closed, head tilted back, back arching and with both hands on the evoker, she slides it into herself.

It's like nothing she has ever felt before.

Hard and heavy. The rectangular barrel is smooth and thick. Thicker than her fingers, thicker than any hairbrush handle, thicker than anything she has ever taken, and hard, so _hard_.

It's not even all the way in yet.

She draws a deep, unsteady breath, and _pulls_.

The barrel disappears inside her. And Yukari whimpers, no longer caring who hears or what they think.

The body of the evoker strains against her. She'll never be able to take it all the way to the trigger guard; it's much too thick. But she doesn't need to.

She has never felt so full.

Her left hand shakily lets go of the evoker, fingers seeking her clit. The right hand fumbles with the grip, and begins to move.

She sobs at the sensation as the barrel slides out of her, until just the tip of it remains inside, leaving her feeling suddenly _empty_ in a way she has never experienced before.

Draws a ragged breath as it slides back inside, as far as she can take it, until she feels the wider part of the gun straining against her entrance.

Her left hand pinches her clit, strokes it roughly through the hood. It's not the same sensation, not the jolt of lightning she felt when she was using the evoker there, but it's enough.

In. Out. Her fingers are slippery with her arousal.

In. Out. Faster now, and each thrust of the evoker into her body makes a wet, fleshy sound that seems to echo in her head.

In. Out. She feels herself clamping down harder, and it makes the barrel seem even thicker inside of her.

In. Out. A rising sensation coils around the base of her spine and curls its way up, higher and higher. She feels light-headed, but her body seems heavy and unresponsive, except for the motion of her hands.

In. Out. She's melting. Sweat drips down her face and thighs. Her legs tremble with tension. Something seems to be pooling in the pit of her stomach, a thick, heavy, dark, viscous sensation, pressing her even harder down into the bed.

In. Her eyes are wide open, but the white ceiling seems distorted through the bright, dancing spots of colour, green and yellow and purple and red and everything in between. She feels her eyes rolling up but she can't _see_ any more, her field of vision blurring, fraying at the edges and bursting with colour.

Out. In, _fast_ , because she can't stand the sensation of emptiness any more, and her fingers must be a blur on her clit.

She can't even tell where the orgasms begin and end. So high on sensation, even before her body begins to writhe and shudder, before it starts clamping down on the intruding length inside.

Her arm trembles as it pulls the evoker harder into her, and even though it seemed impossible before, she has suddenly taken it all the way to the trigger guard, feels it grinding into her. She can't even begin to pull it back out, just has to keep it buried as deeply inside her as she's able.

It's no conscious thought that brings her to change her grip on the evoker, to fumble her slippery thumb in under the guard.

It's certainly nothing rational that brings her to squeeze down on the trigger just as she crosses some kind of invisible line, after which there is no stopping what is to come.

 _Click._

And though the Dark Hour is far off still, Yukari Takeba's world explodes in blinding blue and white as her ears ring with the sound of shattering glass.

-

It takes a long time for consciousness to settle back in.

The first thing she becomes aware of is the way everything sticks to her - her shirt, the covers on the bed, all soaked with sweat.

The second realization is that there's nothing inside her any more; the evoker slipped from numb fingers, forced out of her body at some point during the climax.

Her entire body aches. She feels _drained_. Not the way she feels after Tartarus, but more like her arms feel after a long session of archery practice.

She groans and attempts to sit up. It fails miserably.

Opens her eyes and blinks, squints and waits for the ceiling to stop spinning. Makes another attempt to sit up, and manages, eventually, though her body protests.

It leaves her free to look down at the evoker. It lies between her thighs on the bed, glistening, slippery and wet.

She hesitates momentarily before she reaches out and picks it up. Heavier than she remembers - or maybe she's just weaker.

The cover it was lying on is soaked with her sweat and slick. The evoker itself is _dripping_ as she holds it up, clear droplets sliding down the barrel and falling off the tip.

Slowly, her hands shaking, her head still spinning, she raises the weapon and brushes her lips against it, heedless of the slick covering it.

 _Thanks_ , she mouths, unable to make a sound, and lets herself fall back down on the bed, clutching the evoker to her chest.

There is no question that she'll sleep well tonight.


End file.
